


Learning By Sight

by Beleriandings



Category: Akatsuki no Yona | Yona of the Dawn
Genre: Childhood, Gen, Parental-ish relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-26 08:56:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6232405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beleriandings/pseuds/Beleriandings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Watching was, after all, what he was best at.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Learning By Sight

The little dragon liked the clear nights the best, when he would lie on his back with his arms and legs spreadeagled in the grass, slipping the mask off and gazing up at the bright night sky. When the moon was full, he liked to look at the individual craters on its face; they sprang into focus a little sharper each month, the child noticed, long before he knew what that truly meant. 

Ao would always come and get him soon, bringing him back inside, pulling him by the wrist so he had to take care not to stumble in the long grass. He didn’t mind, really, though the bright light of the moon and stars left a dark gap in his heart when they were taken away. But he knew he would see them again. He also knew Ao did not want the villagers to see him, that Ao feared, below his harsh words, that the frightened people would harm the child, not yet grown into his power enough to defend himself. Yet still cursed; the curse would always cling to him, even as it had clung to Ao.

They were cursed together at least, thought the little dragon, as he stared into the fire. But then silently, Ao would hand him a clay bowl of rice with roasted meat, and then the solemness would be gone and he would eat hungrily, gratefully, as he always did. 

In the day time, he played with fallen sticks, hacking and slashing at the leaves on the edge of the forest, while Ao went hunting for food, or rooted out bandits that may have threatened the village. Ao said the little dragon had to learn to fight with a sword, but was growing too blind to teach him anything much himself. And so the child practiced; he had watched Ao’s movements, tried to repeat them. 

Watching was, after all, what he was best at. 

He caught a rabbit, once; he had not intended to hunt for meat, but he spotted it by chance on the edge of the forest, darting quickly to ground. He could see where it was going, and he too was quick on his feet, lunging forward to grasp it. He almost let it slip through his small fingers, but he just managed to catch it; the small creature struggled and keened, and the little dragon let out a cry along with it. He felt something crack, one of the fine bones of the little creature - so fragile, he thought - and the rabbit went silent, trembling in paralysed fear. 

Tears were on the little dragon’s cheeks, under his mask; he had not been prepared for this, not for its struggling, not for its panicked dark eyes, yet still he clung on. He had to help Ao, it wasn’t fair that Ao had to do all the work, he should help too… he bit his lip to stop himself crying out as he held the struggling creature in his hands, completely at a loss as to what to do next. He knew before they could eat it he had to kill it, but he had no idea how to do that; the very thought made him want to curl up very small and cry. 

But no, he thought; he would be grown soon, and he would need to catch food sooner or later. Yet still he stood holding the struggling rabbit in his hands, his heart fluttering in indecision. 

“Seiryuu.”

The voice came from behind him, where he hadn’t thought to look. It was not often that anyone was able to sneak up on the child, and it made him flinch violently, his fingers unclasping as he reached - foolishly, childishly, he knew - for his dropped stick sword. He overbalanced, tripped on a tree root and sprawled on the forest floor, next to the rabbit, which was still alive but no longer struggling. A shadow fell across the setting sun, and he looked up tentatively and saw Ao’s familiar silhouette looming above him.

“Ao…”

The older man gave an exasperated sigh, and picked up the child by the collar of his tunic, setting him on his feet none too gently and brushing away the mud and leaves that clung to the front of his clothes. “What do you think you’re doing?”

The child glanced regretfully at the rabbit, which was still trembling on the ground. “I was trying to hunt for food.” He felt foolish, even as he said it. 

Ao frowned, picking up the rabbit. He lifted it in his large, callused hands. “Its leg is broken” he said. “You caused it more pain than you needed to.” In a swift, practiced twisting movement, Ao snapped the rabbit’s neck, ignoring the cry of distress that slipped involuntarily from the child’s mouth. “Learn from your failure, Seiryuu” he said. “If you are going to hunt, then hunt. But don’t draw the animal’s death out longer than you need to.” He gritted his teeth, looking up at the evening sky for a moment. “No creature in this world deserves that.” Then Ao thrust the limp rabbit into the child’s hands to carry. “Now come on. It’ll be nightfall soon.”

Later, when the rabbit was turning on a spit over their fire, the child tried to think determinedly of the meat they were about to eat, rather than the wide-eyed creature that had struggled in his hands. It didn’t really work. He felt a little guilty for how relieved he felt, that Ao probably could not see the tears on his face.

Later, when he took off his mask and splashed his face with cold water from the wooden bucket, he caught sight of his own image, distorted by the rippling water, lit from behind by the half moon. For a moment, he let his hands and the front locks of his hair drip with water, lost in thought. Everyone had to eat, animals and humans and dragons alike. But his eyes - with them, he knew, there was no need for any struggling, any pain in death. With a single glance, he could end a life, could do that which he had been too slow, too clumsy to do with his own hands that day. He could put an end to pain. He could protect, or he could destroy. 

Ao was right, he thought, as his hair dripped water into his eyes and down into the bucket, making the reflection of the moon and his own face ripple strangely. He must never, ever use it. 

He straightened up, pushing back the hair that had fallen forward. His hair had grown a little too long, now; when he was younger, Ao had used to cut it for him sometimes with his dagger, hacking it roughly, unevenly short enough to not get in the way of his vision. But lately he had not, and the little dragon supposed he knew why. Chewing his lip thoughtfully once more, he dried his face and hands and put the mask back on. 

When he returned to the front of their little house, the door was ajar, and Ao was standing there looking through the crack, staring at the sky. A thin slice of moonlight fell across his masked face, and the little dragon cricked his neck leaning back to look up at him.

Eventually Ao seemed to notice him. He looked down at last, opening the door fully, then sighing and folding his arms. “It’s late. Go to sleep, Seiryuu” he growled.

The child nodded hastily, hurrying inside and curling in on himself in his bed roll, pulling his piled furs about himself against the cold mountain air. If Ao looked, the little dragon thought it would at least seem like he was asleep. 

He squeezed his eyes closed in the warm darkness under the furs. It was very dark here, and he couldn’t hear much either; darkness had never troubled him very much, and besides, this was a good sort of darkness, or a better sort than most. A darkness in which to think, to disappear for a little while.

“Seiryuu” he whispered to himself, very quietly, trying the sound of the word, the syllables muffled by the soft furs. “Seiryuu, Seiryuu, Seiryuu.” 

He was learning, day by day, what it really meant. 


End file.
